Aftermath:
Carla PoV
The bed was cold when I awoke, so I pull myself up and wrap my dressing gown tightly around me before leaving the bedroom. I was all set to go over and help myself to a glass of wine, despite the fact it was nine in the morning, but my plan was forgone once I see Nick, lying on the sofa.
"...I told you to go home." I groan, before leaning up against the door frame. My eyes were sore from all the crying I had done last night.
"Yeah well if you thought I was gonna leave you after someone breaks into your flat, you're wrong." He mutters. "Plus it was too late to wake Sarah and Bethany up."
"You'll do your back in lying on that sofa." I croak, before walking straight past him into the kitchen.
"That's my line." He raises his voice slightly as the distance increases between us. "I think it's too late for that anyway."
"Shame." I mumble, taking a glass out of the cupboard and grabbing a nearby bottle of wine. Once I had poured myself a generous amount, I turn to observe last night's remnants. To my surprise, the smashed china and glass from last night had vanished and the scarlet wine stains that coated the door were now just a mere hallucination. "...Did you clean up?"
"Yes." He replies bluntly. "Because I didn't want you to stumble out of your bedroom this morning and step straight into a pile of glass."
His words are painful to me, yet again he was devoting himself to protect me when I had given him nothing in return. Nothing but screaming and insults and hatred.
"I would've done it." Is what I respond with, he's sat up now, staring at me intently as I press the wine glass to my lips.
"Nutritious breakfast." He finally indicates to my consumption of the bitter liquid, I was surprised he hadn't hinted at it sooner, maybe tried to snatch the glass off me. But instead he sat there, handing out sarcastic comments as I blatantly attempt to infuriate him further. He kept his cool with me, no matter what I retaliated with, nothing seemed to provoke him. "Planning on going into work today?"
"Are you planning on shutting up for two seconds?" I argue.
"No." He tells me.
"Well there's your answer." I reply and we seethe in awkward silence for a few minutes. I grab the bottle and pour another glass, my insides burning from the poison intake that they weren't used to so early in the morning.
"So you're going to sit around all day, intoxicating yourself and hating everyone around you?" He asks me.
"My life. It's what I'm best at." I shrug.
"DO YOU KNOW HOW STUBBORN YOU ARE?" He suddenly yells at me, which shocks me slightly. It was satisfying, hearing him break, hearing him raging at me. "THE SLIGHTEST LITTLE THING HAPPENS AND YOU FLY OFF THE HANDLE."
"...The slightest thing?" I repeat, keeping my cool.
"Ok, I didn't mean that." He sighs. "I just meant the break in, you know? Everything hits you so hard."
"It wasn't a break in Nick." I laugh slightly. "It was revenge... You really don't know who did this?"
"Carla." He places his head in his hands. "I know you think it was Tracy-"
"I don't." I interrupt him and he stops abruptly. "It was Rob."
"...Rob?" He frowns.
"I spent all night thinking about it." I swallow, lowering the wine glass cautiously onto the side. "It all adds up; he's out, of course he's not just gonna hide away. He's one of the only people who knows how much that photo meant to me, and he's equally one of the only people who has it out for me."
"And the only person who can be that cruel." Nick mutters. "But surely... He's your brother... He wouldn't..."
"Exactly, he's my brother." I gulp. "I know exactly what he's like."
Michelle PoV
I don't move when I hear Steve wake up, which has to be about mid-morning. I pretend to be fast asleep, which probably worries him slightly considering I'm usually up, preparing the bar.
When I eventually do dare to open my eyes, I am greeted by harsh sunlight, flooding in through the opened curtains. My head is banging; sore from last night's events. Both physically and emotionally.
My excuses had been poor when I managed to haul myself out of the puddle and back into the house last night. My clothes had been sodden and my cheek was cut and bruised from where it had been bashed against the wall repetitively. I had told Liz and Steve that I ran after Rover after accidentally letting him out, but had slipped up in the process. They didn't buy it, but they also didn't question me further.
It takes severe effort to get myself up and tiptoe as silently to the bathroom as possible, but once I am inside I lock the door behind me and start up the shower to hide the sound of my lamentation. I curl up into a ball on the stone cold tiles and cry until my throat is begging for revival, strained and torn from its overuse in the past twenty four hours.
Once I have refrained myself from shaking uncontrollably, I use the shelf to pull me up, stripping myself of the dirty clothing I had not changed before climbing into bed last night. Dirty; never had the word had so many definitions. I leave them in a crumpled heap on the floor before stepping into the shower, the hot water hitting me like a tsunami. It was vicious against my skin, tearing down my silky flesh as I wince at the nail marks still engraved in my arms. I was coated in bruises from Rob's harsh grip and my skin was ripped and fractured in places where I had so aggressively punished myself afterwards. Not intentionally, but sitting, rocking in a pool of fear had not restrained me from digging my nails so far into my skin, out of confusion, out of anger, out of pain. Pain which was so easily transferred emotionally to physically, but could never inflict as much damage.
The intensity of my thoughts are interrupted by a sharp knock on the bathroom door. I almost jump out of my beaten skin at the sound, flinching at any unexpected noise that might occur.
"Michelle? Are you in there?" I hear Steve's voice and try to formulate some sort of response.
"...Yeah." I croak, my voice more hoarse than I anticipated.
"You've been running the shower for fifty minutes." He instantly responds, despite the fact his words are muffled beneath the constant pelting of the water above me. I wasn't aware I had been in here that long, I was more concerned about the fact that Steve could apparently count up to fifty.
"Have I?" I manage to stifle before reluctantly turning the shower off. I think he might be gone by the time I wrap the clean dressing gown around me and stuff my ragged clothes into the nearby waste bin. But I was wrong, I hesitantly open the door, fresh faced, hair wet, to face Steve, who was stood leaning up against the opposing door-frame of Liz's bedroom.
"What's going on?" He asks, seriousness laced in his voice which was rare for Steve.
"I just got carried away, that's all." I shrug, heading into our bedroom in which he follows in my footsteps. "You know when you stand in the shower and it's too comforting to get out?"
"Michelle." He stops me and I turn to face him. Steve was never this firm with me unless something was seriously troubling either of us. "Talk to me please."
"I did!" I object, willing him to go so I could change into a new set of clothes, I notice him eyeing up the bruise on the side of my head and attempt to push a lock of hair over it in disguise. "It was Rover."
"I know I'm thick, but you really expect me to believe that?" He raises his eyebrows.
"Steve." I snap, which shocks him slightly. "I'm fine. Honestly."
"...I'll let you..." He nods slightly before closing the door behind me. I instantly feel awful for being so cruel to him when he was only trying to help. He was concerned about me; something that I always doubted about him. But my thoughts are soon flooded with images from last night; the sour breath in my face, the glacial hands that so harshly gripped my flesh, the penetrating words he scarred into my mind. I had never been this frightened in my entire life...
Rob PoV
I sit with my knees drawn up to my chest, the damp, numbing flat was too cold to allow me to move. I've spent my day doing nothing but plan my next move; I had to drive my targets into complete devastation and I wasn't afraid to pull out all the stops in order to do so.
With a shivering hand, I manoeuvre the mobile phone from where it lay on the carpet, searching through my contacts for one of my best mates. We had been friends a while back when I used to be inside for the first time. He had an evil streak, especially recently as he had informed me of his torment towards some of the residents nearby.
"Jamie." I greet in a low tone, as I hear his gruff response on the end of the line. "Yeah I've got a little task for you; paid of course. I'm guessing you'd be interested?"
